


blooming under you (as if you were the sun)

by giucorreias



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Pining, Slight changes to canon, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giucorreias/pseuds/giucorreias
Summary: Jean doesn't have his soulmark anymore.





	blooming under you (as if you were the sun)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jojen_hewitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojen_hewitt/gifts).



> This is a gift for [jojen-hewitt](http://jojen-hewitt.tumblr.com/) who wanted too many things I wanted to write and made my life very hard when choosing one of their prompts. I'm so sorry it took me so long! I had originally planned to write something else, and even started it, but realized halfway my idea was way too complex for me to finish in time, and so I started over.
> 
> This is a soulmate AU in which people are born with matching little marks.
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to @staywithme_13 for being the wonderful friend she is, and a huge thank you as well for the mods who made this challenge possible.

Jean doesn’t have his soulmark anymore. Back when he was younger, back when Riko was alive, back when he lived in the nest, back, back,  _ back— _ Riko had him and Kevin tattoo something else over it (a big, dark raven). He still remembers it vividly, though, the colorful shapes and smooth curves swaying gently along his heartbeat, the way it would sometimes follow the movement of his finger if he touched it.

Tattooing over a soulmark isn’t easy.

It isn’t painless, either.

But he had blundered through, and so had Kevin, and they had become better players for it. In the nest, Jean had been an exy player first, a human being second—back then, there had been no place for soulmates in his life. Back then, he wouldn’t have wanted a soulmate. Not if it meant he’d drag them down with him—not if it meant they’d be subjected to Riko as well.

Now Riko is dead.

Now Riko is dead, and Jean is no longer a Raven.

Now Riko is dead, and there’s Jeremy.

Now there’s Jeremy.

 

* * *

 

Jean is laying down on Alvarez’s lap, indulging her small talk as she plays with his hair when he sees Jeremy’s soulmark. It’s a bright, sunny day and the Trojans are all chilling around Laila’s pool. Jeremy is—gorgeous, muscled,  _ hot _ —wearing nothing but swimming trunks, and Jean immediately recognizes the colors, the lines, the  _ rhythm _ of the tiny shape he has right above his chest  (right above his  _ heart _ ).

Jean doesn’t say anything—there’s no way he could prove they’re a match. Instead, he commits Jeremy’s profile to memory (so he’ll have something to think about at night, when he’s feeling lonely—in the future, when they’re no longer friends). Instead, he watches Jeremy swim, listens to his laugh and pretends nothing at all has changed, because it hasn’t. After all, Jean was in love with Jeremy long before he saw the mark—he had decided not to say anything long before that decision had any relevance.

Jean has moved from Alvarez’s lap to the ground beside her, feet inside the pool, by the time Jeremy approaches them—wet skin and sunglasses—looking more angelic than he has any right to. “Is there something on my face?” he asks, dimples and laugh lines. 

He sits down heavily at their side, mimicking Jean and putting his feet inside the pool. He turns his head towards the two of them, and it’s a shame Jean can’t see his eyes—he likes them.

“These sunglasses are way too big for you,” Jean evades. He lets his accent bleed into his speech, tone morphed into righteous indignation. Jean sits up, plucks the sunglasses out of Jeremy’s face and adds them to his own. “They look better on me, don’t you think?”

Jeremy’s eyes are full of fondness, lips curled into a smile. Alvarez hooks her arm around Jean’s shoulder, turns Jean’s face towards her and mock-analyzes his face intently, as if trying to decide whether she agrees.

“No,” she says, shaking her head, and Jeremy bursts out laughing. 

Jean feels his stomach swoop and feels himself smiling despite himself. Jeremy has a beautiful laugh—Jean would like to be the reason he’s laughing more often, the reason he’s laughing  _ always _ (and isn’t that way more damning than a tiny little mark fate saw fit to add to his body long before he knew what was love?).

Jeremy tries to get his sunglasses back. Jean dodges him and runs away, careless. The floor around the pool is wet, but he’s having fun—he’s allowed fun—and that isn’t going to stop him. Jeremy throws himself into him, and they both fall into the pool.

Jean is taller, so he’s still keeping the sunglasses out of Jeremy’s reach. Jeremy flings himself into Jean and they wrestle. 

Jeremy wins, because Jean lets him, and by the time Jeremy gets distracted by someone else, by something else, and Jean is back by Alvarez’s side, she’s looking at him with eyes that are unbearably knowing.

He allows himself an act of childishness and pokes her until she gets annoyed enough to go somewhere else. 

That night, he dreams of tasting the salt of Jeremy’s sweat off of his skin.

_ Nothing's _ changed.

 

* * *

 

People say that soulmates are always well-matched, but Jean had always thought that was bullshit. Back  _ then _ , it had seemed hilarious that god or the universe or whoever it is that matches soulmates thought Jean would be a good match to anyone whatsoever.  _ Now _ , the problem remains: Jeremy is too good.

Jeremy is too good for Jean.

Jeremy is kind and sunny. He’s helpful and hard-working. He’s  _ happy _ . Jean, on the other hand, isn’t. He isn’t sure he could ever be. He doesn’t understand Jeremy’s easy happiness, the way he’ll smile because it’s a sunny day or he finds a dog cute, the way he’ll laugh at a dumb joke or because a friend of his just landed a goal. For Jean happiness is… the thought that he’ll never have to see Riko’s face anymore, not much else.

He fears he might overwhelm Jeremy with his demons. He fears he might dirty Jeremy’s golden presence with his darkness, his gloom. He fears he will taint Jeremy’s purity with his sins. He fears his past might just burden Jeremy enough that he’ll stop seeing the world as this beautiful, magical place where people are  _ kind _ —and so he doesn’t. He can’t.

He won’t.

 

* * *

 

“You have a crush on Jeremy,” Alvarez says. It’s only the two of them in her room while she paints her nails bright red and they watch Mean Girls. She has taken upon herself to introduce him to the world of chick flicks—or whatever it is they’re called, he doesn’t care—and she insists no one else would be brave enough to introduce them to him.

Jean thinks that, secretly, she just likes to hear him bitching about the plot.

“I do.” He doesn’t see the point in denying. She wasn’t asking—she already knows. 

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Jean pauses the movie and turns to face her. She’s wearing a too-large T-Shirt, her hair is on a ponytail and she’s not looking at him as she seems to be very interested on her own nails.

Jean knows this isn’t about him. Alvarez has had a crush on Laila for months. “Why haven’t  _ you _ ?”

She shrugs. There’s a moment of silence before she looks up. “What if we’re not soulmates?” Her voice trembles. “What if we  _ are _ ?”

“The way I see it,” Jean starts. There’s a pause in which he doesn’t exactly know how to say what he wants, but Alvarez patiently waits for him. “If she likes you, it doesn’t matter if you’re soulmates or not. You’ll be happy.”

She shrugs again. He doesn’t know what she expects to get from this conversation, and so he can’t give it to her. It’s unnerving. He turns to go back to the movie, to unpause it, but she stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “You never answered my question.”

Jean sighs. “I’m not the right person for him,” he says, after some consideration.  _ No matter what our marks say _ , he doesn’t. 

“Then you should take your own advice.” She lifts the corners of her mouth, though it isn’t quite a smile. 

Jean shakes his head. “It’s completely different.”

“Why?” She frowns.

Jean thinks she knows what he’ll say. That he’s not a normal person—that he has a dark past. That his time in the Nest broke him beyond repair. That no one deserves to be saddled with him for the rest of their lives, soulmark or no.

That is absolutely what he is thinking, but he isn’t going to  _ say _ . Instead of answering her, Jean unpauses the movie. Like the good friend she is, this time Alvarez lets him.

 

* * *

 

The thing about knowing Jeremy has his soulmark is that it opens up new avenues Jean had never considered before, which in turn makes it harder to pretend there is nothing going on between them beyond friendship.

There is  _ nothing _ going on between them beyond friendship (maybe if he repeats that enough he’ll start to believe it).

Maybe if he repeats that enough, it’ll become easier to follow through.

 

* * *

 

 

Jean never built a pillow fort before. Jeremy thinks that’s a travesty—so they build one. It’s nothing fancy, apparently, blankets and pillows and chairs, a few snacks. 

He does have to admit, however, that it’s… nice.

And so he does.

“You deserve nice things,” Jeremy answers him. There isn’t much space at all, so they’re both laying down on their sides, face to face. Jeremy has the prettiest eyes Jean has ever seen, and they’re shining with amusement and something else Jean can’t quite recognize.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Jean shrugs, rattling the fort with the abrupt movement.

“It’ll have to do, I suppose.” Jeremy smiles. There’s a moment of awkward silence in which Jean wonders what he should say next and Jeremy just  _ looks _ at him. 

It’s too much.

“You know what else I have never tried?” Jean breaks the silence as he feels for a pillow behind him. 

Jeremy shakes his head. 

Jean gives him a devilish smile, which is all the warning Jeremy needs, apparently, because when Jean throws the pillow he just grabbed at Jeremy’s figure, he easily dodges and slams his own pillow against Jean’s face.

“You’re  _ on _ ,” he says, sitting up. He holds his pillow with both hands, and comes down with it several times before Jean can get his bearings and move away, sitting up also, and seeking another pillow. He realizes, now, he shouldn’t have thrown it—having a pillow in hands would be a lot safer, now.

He picks a random pillow around him, which happens to be part of the fort’s structure—part of the fort comes bearing down, blanket falling over him, and now he can’t see. Jeremy takes advantage of that to hit him again, several times.

“ _ Merde _ .” Jean elbows him, but it doesn’t seem to deter Jeremy.

“ _ Language _ ,” he jokes, which startles Jean. He never knew Jeremy could speak French, or would recognize it. Once again, Jeremy takes advantage of his distraction: he throws his weight against Jean’s and forces him down. The rest of the—already precarious, by then—pillow fort topples over, and it’s a tangle of limbs and elbows and profanities, for a while, until they’re both free.

Jeremy laughs, carefree. He’s sweating, hair sticking to his face, clothes in disarray. Jean himself is probably a mess as well, but right then it doesn’t matter. All he wants to do is chase the smile off of Jeremy’s face, and he  _ can’t _ .

 

* * *

 

Jean is used to being denied things—to deny himself something on purpose is a new feeling entirely, but close enough to what he’s used to for it not to matter. He’s protecting Jeremy—he needs to remind himself of that.

It becomes harder the happier he feels, the farther he distances himself from the shadow of a person he used to be. It becomes harder every time Jeremy makes him laugh so hard he feels like he can’t breath, and every time Alvarez throws her arms on Jean’s shoulder and messes up his hair, and every time he curls up with hot chocolate and a book under his dorm’s window feeling nothing but contentment.

(it becomes harder every time he lets out something about his past that he thinks Jeremy wouldn’t know how to deal with and instead of being shocked Jeremy hugs him, and files it away, and offers back a story about his childhood that he hasn’t told Jean before).

 

* * *

 

The Trojans have just won a game against the Ravens—Jean being decisive for their victory—, and the first thing Jean does after it ends is hide himself in the locker room, unwilling to deal with his previous teammates and the Raven fans. He’s still in there, shirtless—Raven tattoo at display—, gripping his Trojan shirt with white knuckles, when Kevin finds him.

It has been a while since they last saw each other. Once, they were friends. Once, they protected each other. Once, they were both in the nest. Now, they don’t have much in common beyond their past—beyond their bad blood. Jean wasn’t expecting Kevin to be here, but now that he is Jean somehow finds himself feeling less… lost.

Kevin sits beside Jean. “You’re still favoring your right side,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It’s such a  _ Kevin _ thing to say that Jean finds himself laughing, humorlessly. Kevin purses his lips, frowning, and doesn’t say anything else.

“It’s good to see you too,” Jean says, half-ironic, half-honest. He lets go of the shirt he had been holding, puts it behind him on the bench they’re sitting, and turns to look at Kevin. “We did play very well today, thank you for saying that.”

Kevin raises his eyebrow. Jean realizes, then, that it isn’t the answer Kevin had been expecting from him. He realizes, then, that he isn’t the same person he was when he last saw Kevin, that he has changed.

Jean wonders, as he shrugs, if his face somehow shows how much he’s feeling. If Kevin has realized what just happened. If this moment is as groundbreaking to his—friend?—as it is to him.   

“Congratulations on the win,” Kevin amends, awkward. “You deserved it. I-” he pauses. In the seconds it takes him to settle on a sentence, Jean can hear all the things he doesn’t say. It seems like Kevin isn’t the same, either—old Kevin would never sound awkward, he’d never be  _ nice _ . “You did well today.”

“Riko would have hated it.” The thought makes Jean smile. Kevin smiles along, nodding slightly. Jean can’t remember the last time he saw Kevin smile that wasn’t his fake, bright white, media smile.

This one looks better.

“He would,” Kevin agrees with him, sighing softly. His eyes are distant, but he’s still smiling. “He would.”

 

* * *

 

It occurs to him that Riko would hate everything about what happened after he died: The Ravens, losing; Kevin, thriving; His perfect court, dismantled.

The night is young, the Trojans have won and Riko is dead—only one thing is missing, now.

 

* * *

 

It’s a celebratory dinner, the Trojans are all packed together around a too-small table. There are elbows and legs everywhere, and not enough space for them all to eat their pizza comfortably. Laila has given up on a plate entirely and is currently eating with her hands, Alvarez enthralled every time she licks her fingers. Jean himself isn’t eating anything, empty plate and a glass of soda, instead watching Jeremy.

Jeremy, who is excitedly talking to one of their other players, John, waving his hands around—bright eyes and flushed cheeks, half-eaten slice of pizza already forgotten, beer can still in hands. Jeremy, who will once in a while search the table for Jean, smile at him,  _ wink _ , and then go back to the conversation as if he had done none of those things.

Jeremy, whose soulmark is a perfect copy of the one Jean carried once upon a time. Jeremy, who sometimes makes him feel like  _ bursting _ , but sometimes makes him feel like peace, and quite, and infinite.

The night ends too soon—Jean doesn’t notice the minutes slipping by. Perhaps for the first time, Jean isn’t thinking about how much he doesn’t deserve Jeremy. Instead, he lets himself imagine what would happen if he held Jeremy’s hand, and kissed Jeremy’s lips, and told Jeremy he loved him.

He imagines Jeremy would smile at him, soft.

 

* * *

 

“We need to talk,” Jean says. It’s early morning, the birds are singing and Jean has just made them coffee. Jeremy is looking at him with half-lidded eyes, still barely awake, hair sticking out everywhere. There are pillow marks on his left cheek.

Jean waits until Jeremy takes the first sip—until he starts to wake up properly—before he goes on. He isn’t nervous, or anxious. He isn’t afraid. It’s a result of being next to Jeremy, he thinks: Jeremy always makes him feel reckless, feel brave, feel good.

“When I was—younger,” he starts. It’s both, easy and hard, to keep on saying it. “When I was in the Nest, Riko made us all get tattoos.” Jean closes his eyes. He feels the warmth of Jeremy’s hands holding his, and opens his eyes to Jeremy looking back at him, steady. “They were supposed to make us concentrate on the game and forget… distractions.”

“How would a tattoo do that?” Jeremy frowns. Jean’s smile is bitter, and quick.

“They were drawn above our soulmarks,” he says, fast like taking out a band-aid.

“Oh.” Jeremy drags his chair closer, and Jean can feel his whole body’s warmth. Jeremy looks wide awake, now, big eyes and half-opened mouth as if he can’t believe Riko’s cruelty. “Oh, Jean, I’m so sorry.”

Jean shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, and that isn’t important. I’m not telling you this so you can feel sad about it, I’m saying it because it’s why I can’t show you my soulmark and we’re—” 

The word burns on his throat, on his tongue, and he can’t say it—though he doesn’t need to. Jeremy is looking at him with wonder on his eyes, a smile on his face, and so much more happiness than Jean has ever seen on a person before.

He takes Jean’s hands up to his mouth and kisses all of his knuckles, one by one, before he lets go of them and holds his face.

It’s too much,  _ too much _ , but this time Jean doesn’t do anything to distract him from the moment.

“We’re soulmates,” Jeremy whispers, awed. 

Jean nods. Time seems to slow down as Jeremy approaches him, bit by bit. They kiss, and Jeremy tastes like coffee with too much sugar. Jean  _ loves _ it. Jean loves  _ him _ .

“We’re soulmates,” Jeremy whispers again, against his lips. Jean feels the warmth of his breath. He nods again.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re soulmates.”

 

* * *

 

(And nothing else is missing).

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr!](http://giucorreias.tumblr.com/).


End file.
